


Your Face is Poetry Enough

by Saraste



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Braids, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Gigolas Week 3, Gimli has tattoos, How Do I Tag, I probably misspelled all the Sindarin..., M/M, Misuse of Khuzdul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is supposed to read Gimli's tattoos and Gimli is supposed to be teaching him Khuzdul. Khuzdul and Sindarin endearments are thrown about yet the biggest things do not need words to be known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Face is Poetry Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katajainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/gifts).



> This has the same braiding idea as 'A Spouse from the Woodland Realm', but is set _before_ it, because they still have their courting braids and no marriage braids. Did not think where this would be set during the War of the RIng, though I sort of have a general idea that they married in Minas Tirith? (I wish I was artsy enough to draw how I envision the braids to look like!)
> 
> Also, this is for katajainen for liking my braiding idea, even if she is a bad sister for hinting at what happens in the chapters of Sansûkh which I've yet not read.
> 
> Prompt for day 3 was language&writing. I interpreted it a little... creatively. (OMG I wrote almost!smut gigolas!)

  


"What does this one say?" Legolas asked, sounding near to reverent as his finger traced the strange yet already so endearingly familiar lines of the edgy runes etched onto Gimli's skin with black ink.

Gimli shuddered under his touch. He fervently wished that his elf did not know what exactly he was doing to him, touching him like that. Although Legolas most likely did, being sneaky in the ways of love, always striving to find new ways to reduce Gimli into a shivering gasping mess under his knowledgeable, wicked, fingers.

And tongue.

Gimli never would forget the things that Legolas could do with his tongue even if he lived to be three hundred. There was a throb in his loins even just thinking about it and groused at his current prone position.

Now, fingers were replaced by an inquisitive, moist flick, before Gimli could even begin to answer his love. Oh but that was not fair at all!

"How can I answer when you do something like that to me, âzyngel?" he gasped at his elf. His head was pressed sideways to the pillow under it, read hair spilling over pale linens, pale hair shining amongst one braid.

A braid plaited into the intricate weaves of courting.

Said elf just laughed, a high peal of mirth issuing from his lips and Gimli felt him move above him. Gimli was laid flat on his stomach with Legolas straddling his thighs to better see the runes tattooed on Gimli's back. Ostensibly the elf was practising his Khuzdul by trying to decipher the names etched onto the dwarrow's skin. Why he was doing so while completely and unashamedly naked was...

What Gimli felt next was neither a finger nor a tongue but something bigger and it was nowhere near the tattoos on his upper back as Legolas draped his whole body against Gimli.

"Ghivashel..." Gimli rasped, breahless, for there was a new heat in his blood now. Not that this turn of events was new, as all their previous 'learning sessions' that had anything at all to do with his inkings had ended with the both of them sweaty and sated.

"Melêth-nin..." Legolas breathed into his ear in reply and then licked at the lobe.

"What  _are_ you doing?" Gimli asked, shifting. He was rewarded by a soft sindaring  murmur  he could not make hair nor hide out of. 

"Embracing you," Legolas replied with the naughty playfulness that the two of them mostly enjoyed in intimate settings when they knew they were alone, especially when clothes had been shed and there was but skin between them and...even less.

"I would see you... mel-eth-nin," Gimli tasted the unfamiliar syllables on his tongue, "if we were to do something like what I think you want to do."

"But was I not supposed to read the ink on your back, Gimli-love?" Legolas countered, sounding mock-chiding with an edge of passion. His body is heavy and ready against Gimli's and belies his words.

"You can show me the command you have over reading the ink on my chest, instead, amralîme" Gimli counters even as he pushed up against his elven lorldly love.

He is still sometimes surprised how wanton his elf is, being of a serene people, who outwardly do not seem to even be interested in such things as joining bodies with their lovers. Before, on the few times before meeting _his_ elf that Gimli had ever thought about elves and how they behaved with their chosen partners, he had usually envisioned them holding hands, maybe a few chaste kisses and endless reading of florid soppy poetry.

Seemed to be that Legolas found enough poetry on Gimli's skin to stoke his ardor to a fevered pich. And Gimli did not want to douse the fire in him even when he preferred to see Legolas' face but... what Legolas was offering and asking was not something Gimli had yet to experience with him from his end he wanted to be able to read the sonnets on the elf's face in the throes of passion, wanted to see his promise-braid bounce up and down over a slim elven shoulder as they moved together, strands of red dwarven hair woven in amongst silvery elven locks and closed with a clasp from Gimli's own hair.

Legolas moved.

As Gimli followed, flipping around, he saw the look in Legolas' eyes. The dwarf settled onto his back, moving his legs to a comfortable position where Legolas was still astride them even if he was now kneeling.

A slim-fingered hand settled on Gimli's haired chest and rested there for a minute. "Would you have my name writ upon your skin once we are wed?" Legolas asked, suddenly hushed, a rough undercurrent in his tone speaking of his arousal,a almost masking the uncertainty. He still seemed to be a bit shocked over the fact that Gimli had agreed to his suit.

"Aye," Gimli confirmed, taking Legolas' hand in his own and moving it, "right here over my heart, where you are. My Ghivashel."

"Ghi-vas-hel." Legolas sounded the rough Khuzdul on his tongue carefully as his hand lay upon Gimli's heart. ”Gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn.”

Gimli did not understand the words but heard the sentiment behind them, the raw unbridled love Legolas has for him. A love answered by Gimli, for Legolas is his One and there can never be any other.

”You and your fancy elven words...” Gimli said, when he has managed to catch his breath once his elf has thorouhgly kissed it out of him with his wicked lips.

There is a fire in Legolas which can only be quenched by him devoting his full attention to Gimli and his pleasure. More liquid sindarin is whispered against Gimli's skin as Legolas gives them both what they want and Gimli learns more about what it is to be loved by an elf. Even if he does not understand a word Legolas is saying when he is inside of Gimli.

But there is more to love than words. And Legolas' actions speak volumes, anyway.

 


End file.
